


Will you hold me now?

by darlingpanfanfic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Darling Pan - Freeform, F/M, Lots of it, Peter Pan is not Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold's Father, Smuttish?, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, smut?, surely lots of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5977192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingpanfanfic/pseuds/darlingpanfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Peter just wanted the comfort of her embrace, other times he didn't even know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will you hold me now?

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda random and confusing? I don't even know. Not completely safe for work.  
> It's been a while since I wrote darling pan and this happened. Sorry.

She holds him in his sleep.

She had done it when he had fallen asleep and then woken up from a nightmare, shaking and breathless. She had held him with her arms comforting and tender around him. Because that's what a good mother would have done with her child.

Nightmares of another time, another place, when he might have been just a _boy_. And not the boy-king of Neverland.

Nightmares of when the magic didn't fill his blood and the heart of his beloved island.

She had held him when the weight of ruling a realm with nothing but ruthlessness and an iron fist since the start of time was too much.

When the weight of Neverland's ground was too much, when it crushed on his shoulders and shoot him down faster than any sad thoughts could.

When the weight of being _exactly_ who he was felt _too_ much.

Then, stubborn in his selfishness and fiercely oblivious in his heart's desires, he crawled his way into her house almost every night. He crawled his way into her _bed_.

Because he wanted her to hold him.

Because _he_ wanted to hold _her._

He wanted her arms around him and his around her, the softness of her against the hardness of his chest, and the melting curves of her body against the leanness of his.

 

Peter's eyelashes flutter like butterflies in the air but his eyes don't open.

He remains suspended in his slumber, somewhere between sleep and awareness.

He breaths in lightly. His lips part. He hums against what it must be the soft material of Wendy's nightgown, and the even more softness beneath it.

He turns his head to the side only to find his face pressed on her chest, his forehead nestled right in the space between her breasts.

They're small. Even smaller when she's lying down, but so soft. He presses down and rubs his cheek up and down against the little roundness of the side of her breast. Warm spreads and heats up his face, making his cheeks hot with blush.

Wendy makes a thin sound, like a sight.

Her lips part like a rose blossom but she keeps sleeping.

Peter's breath quickens. Distant and echoing, he hears his heartbeat quickening too.

His mouth opens more to let out a shallow and blowy breath. His lip brushes over one of her nipple as he moves his head. Her nipple stiffens into a hard nub tensing the thinness of her nightgown.

Unconsciously, Wendy's fingers grasp and curl in his hair, running trough his locks, then skimming ghostlike beneath his ear, down to the flushed, hot skin of his neck.

He barely moves his opened mouth over her breast again. And just as ripped out of a dream, Peter seems to understand what it's like to starve for naked skin underneath his own and flesh in his mouth, right _between_ his lips. Still, his mouth doesn't close properly over the tightness of her nipple and this time, Wendy's hands clench his head and pull him closer.

He feels a shiver running slowly down his back and his arms tighten around her waist, hands close almost desperately around her sides, trying to hold more, _all,_ of her against him.

Wendy still doesn't wake.

Peter breathes in, inhales her scent. It's something indistinguishable but sweet and warm and… so completely _motherly_.

With his fingers clinging on the swell of her hips, he nuzzles his face deeper between her breasts.

His cock grows hard against her thigh.

Still in his drowsiness, the heaviness, the consequences of all that -of what he's doing, of what it might mean, of how _bad_ _ly_ his body wants her- don't touch him.

He would _never_ let them touch him.

There are words -just like those, _consequences-_ and also others dirtier and _filthier_ that are stranger and faraway.

Words that belongs to a world that he could never be part of. A world that doesn't have magic. A world that is _not_ Neverland. A world that might have been -and still might be- _hers_.

Wendy shifts lightly, her legs moving, parting just a little bit and her hips lift, buck up like _needing_ something.

Peter isn't conscious enough to give in to that new-sprung urge to jerk up his hips against her and find what it must be a very desirable sort of _release._

But the pressure feels good.

The gentle fullness of her cleavage for him to rest his head feels good.

The more firm fullness of her thigh for him to rub against feels _more_ than good.

So good that it makes him mumble, _moan_ raw and raspy against her chest.

He just rocks his hips against her, in a slow circled movement a couple times, as if he wanted to actually discover what it might feel like, then he slows down to a stop.

The warmness of a deeper dream-state cloaks upon him and pulls him away.

Peter slowly falls back to sleep, with his erection pressed up against her, still hard and insistent.

And like he did times before, like he _always_ did with things he couldn't really deal with, he just hoped it would go _away_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I used the UST tag, didn't I?  
> And I also said I was sorry, didn't I?  
> Don't blame me.
> 
> Now, you can send me darlingpan prompts[ here ](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/DarlingPanPromptMeme) if you want!


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